Saving MJ
by Emlizanne
Summary: MJ comes to Peter for comfort. Not much of a plot, really. If you like romance, a little angst, and most importantly, if you have a thing for Shirtless!Peter, then click here, this story is for you.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:  These characters, you will doubtless be shocked to learn, are not mine.  I'm just playing with 'em for an hour or two.  I'll put 'em back where I found 'em when I'm done, OK?  Author's Note:  This story has no real plot.  It's just your standard Peter and MJ fluff really, written by yet another frustrated-romantic movie-goer.  So if you're good with that, then read on.  I hope you enjoy 'Saving MJ'.  Oh, and one more thing.  The ratings of chapters (if I ever get around to writing a second chapter, that is) will change, so keep an eye on them if that concerns you.  Also, leave reviews!   Uncommonly enough, I love the suckers.   Thank you. Saving MJ PART ONE 

Peter awoke to the sound of someone knocking heavily on the front door of his apartment.  He blinked sleepily a few times, wondering why Harry wasn't answering it.  Then the haze of sleep began to clear and he realised it was two in the morning, and Harry was out at friend's party and unlikely to be home before lunch that day.

Yawning, Peter rolled out of bed and stumbled downstairs, his brain working overtime trying to work out who it could be.  A wary glance through the peep hole revealed all.

Fumbling in haste, he threw the chain off and swung the door open.

"MJ!"

With her arms wrapped tightly around her upper body and her hair hanging damp and stringy around her pale face, Mary Jane Watson still managed to look beautiful.

"Hello Peter," she replied softly, her mouth quirking at the corner into a slightly embarrassed smile.  "I'm sorry to wake you but - "

"Don't worry about it, come inside, tell me what's wrong."  He stepped back and let her move past him.

The scent of her hair reached him as she passed, achingly familiar and incredibly intoxicating.  He had to close his eyes for a moment, just to fight down the rush of feelings he felt upon seeing her again, especially so unexpectedly.

MJ stopped in the middle of the room but did not sit down.  Peter noticed she was shivering slightly.  "Are you cold?" he asked in concern.

She shrugged.  "My jacket's wet, it was raining out."

"Take it off then, let me lend you - " his clothes were all upstairs, and he didn't want to leave her, not even for moment.  Without thinking, he pulled his sweater over his head.  "Here, put this on instead."

Smiling again, she reached for it, then stopped, her eyes widening in shock and wonder.

Peter looked at her face, confused, then followed the line of her gaze to his own smoothly toned torso.  The hard biceps and defined pectorals were not what she would have expected of softly-spoken photography nerd Peter Parker.  Disconcerted by her attention, confused as to what his next move should be, and embarrassed by his own undeniable reaction to her admiration, Peter blushed.

MJ shook her head suddenly, as though clearing it.  She took the sweater.  "Sorry," she mumbled, and Peter was both amused and relieved to see that she was blushing too, "It's just I - sorry..."  

She shrugged out of her jacket.  The snug fitting tank top she wore underneath did nothing to disguise the curves of her breasts, or the effect of the cold.  If it _was_ the cold.  It was Peter's turn to stare, but he swiftly managed to get a hold on himself and looked away, swallowing hard.

The jumper came down over MJ's head.  She could smell Peter's scent in it.  Aftershave, soap, and ... Peter.  It was still warm from being next to his skin.  MJ shivered again, this time not from a chill.

"So what are you doing here?" He was the first to speak.

Again, MJ seemed a little embarrassed.  "Oh," she said, smiling and not quite able to look at him.  "It sounds so silly now...  I knew it would.  It's just I was ... at home.  On my own.  Just like I was ... you know, that night."

He did know.  He watched her face gravely and did not interrupt.  "And I was getting scared, jumping at tiny noises.  Imagining things.  I couldn't sleep.  I was just lying in the dark and...  It's stupid, I know.  But I'm afraid to be alone.  After the Goblin...  After everything....  And I just thought ... if I could be with you, it would all be OK."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, begging him to understand.  But how was he supposed to understand when there were so many things she couldn't say?  Her friend.  That was all he had wanted to be.  So how was she supposed to explain that yes, she had come because she was frightened, but there was more to it than that.  She had come because she had yearned for him.  Because she loved him, and it was painful to be apart from him.  Because she lay in bed at night and thought of him, his beautiful kindness, his sincere blue eyes, his gentle, sensitive hands.  She missed him.  She wanted to be at his side.  

It had been a cerebral attraction, up til now.  She felt that their souls connected, and that her heart could never be complete without him.  As for their bodies...  Well, she had only ever vaguely imagined making love with him.  Physicality had seemed relatively unimportant with regard to the spiritual intensity she felt for Peter.

But now...  God, the kiss in the graveyard should have given her a clue.  The heat of his mouth and the sensation of his lips pulling gently, sweetly, fervently on hers...  She should have known then that there was even more to Peter Parker than a beautiful mind.  Now she had seen what he concealed beneath his unassuming clothes and she was having trouble thinking in straight lines as her hormones spiked crazily.  Heat pulsed in her breasts, in her stomach, between her thighs.  What she felt now, in the middle of his living room in the middle of the night, wet and bedraggled and smothered in an oversized sweater, was more than an intensely bittersweet longing.  It was pure, hot desire.

She felt all of this, and she could say nothing.

Because he had not wanted her.

"It's all right," he was saying to her, his eyes fixed intently on her face, "You were right to come.  I said I would be here for you.  I am."

MJ wanted to cry.  She wanted to put her arms around him.  She wanted ... she wanted him to love her.

Instead she gave a shaky smile and blinked against the stinging in her eyes.  "Thanks, Tiger," she whispered.  

He was still looking at her.  There was something in his eyes...  _Surely_ she had seen that look before, in the eyes of the men who had wanted her in the past.  Could it be that Peter...?  She held her breath.

The silence stretched between them, the air thick with tension.  Would he kiss her?  And what would it mean if he did?  At that moment MJ didn't care, all she wanted was him, conditions be damned.

She returned his gaze steadily, her face tilted up towards him.  It was up to him.

And for one cruel, precious moment, she had really thought he was going to do it...  Really thought he was going to press his lips to hers once more, and...

But in the next, he had turned his face away, and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

She worked hard to hide her disappointment and pain, and as a consummate actress she knew she did a good job.  But he had always known her better than everyone else, and saw exactly what she was trying to conceal.

"God, MJ, look, I'm - " His voice was hoarse.  Surely that meant something.

But she shook her head, cutting him off before he could make things worse by apologising.  "S'all right, Peter," she said, holding up her hand.  Her voice cracked only a little.  "I understand.  You were honest with me from the start.  Don't apologise when it's not your fault."

_But I haven't been honest_, he wanted to wail, _I've never been honest with you, not when it comes to how I feel about you, not even about who I am.  I've done nothing but lie to you._

Instead, he nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak.

MJ looked around.  "And... I know it's a lot to ask, but ... could I sleep here tonight?  It's just ...  I mean, I'm on my own back home and it's raining..."

Peter found his voice.  "Of course you can stay here!  Take my bed."

MJ raised her eyebrows.  "With you in it?"

Peter's expression reminded her so much of the naive and confused little boy she had known in high school that she had to laugh.  A small, wry laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"It's OK, Tiger, I was joking.  But I couldn't put you out of your own bed.  Is Harry in?"

Peter shook his head, still not sure if he was relieved or disappointed that she had been kidding.

MJ inclined her head.  "Then I'll sleep in his bed, if that's all right."

She glanced down at the sweater she was wearing, then back at Peter's achingly desirable naked torso.  Hoping that he had missed the open longing that had flashed over her features, she went to pull it back over her head and return it to him.

"No, it's OK," he said quickly, causing her to pause, "You keep it."  He took a few steps backward.  "Sleep well, MJ.  I'll be in the next room if you want anything."  And with that, he all but ran up the stairs, and disappeared.

She watched him go.

_If I want anything...  You'll be in the next room...  Oh, Peter, surely you know that there's only thing in the world that I really want...  But it's the one thing in the world that you're not willing to give..._


	2. Part Two

**_A/N:_**_  Thank you all kindly for the reviews.  They make my breaks from studying that much brighter.  And if anyone was wondering, yes, I am aware that this story is a near-complete showcase of every Peter/MJ fic cliché in existence.  I have no original ideas.  I'm dealing with that as best I can.  Oh, one other kinda important note.  As you were previously warned, this chapter's rating has sky-rocketed from a nice safe PG-13 to a scary NC-17.  I was going to make it R, but then I thought, perhaps I'm just corrupted?  Upon careful reflection, I decided there was a fair chance of that, so I made it NC-17 just to be sure.  I consider you all fairly warned, so don't come crying to me if you are shocked by my sinful licentiousness.  That's what you get for not reading the author's note.  So hah.  Review me please! : )_ PART TWO

Peter awoke for the second time that night to an unfamiliar noise.  He looked at the time.  4.40 am.  What was it now?

Then he realised the sound was coming from Harry's room.  He was alert and out of bed within moments, and mere seconds later he was striding into the bedroom down the hall.

In the darkened room, he could make out MJ's body lying tangled in the bedsheets.  Every now and then she thrashed, her lips moving ceaselessly as she shook her head and mumbled incoherently.  Occasionally her mumbling would become a cry of fear, or a shout of anger.  This was what had woken him.

His heart pounding painfully, he crossed the room towards her, wanting desperately to give her comfort.  As he got closer he saw that her sweater - well, his sweater - was riding up, and somewhere along the line she had shed the damp tank top.

He felt his body stir fiercely in automatic response.  The sweater revealed the soft, pale planes of her bare stomach, all the way to her gently curving hips and up to the line of her breasts.  She tossed again, and the sheet fell away from one leg.  One naked leg.  Peter realised with a barely suppressed groan that she had shed her jeans too, and was sleeping in no more than his sweater and her panties.

MJ whimpered in her sleep, shaking him out of his reverie.  He suddenly felt dirty, standing in the dimness of the room and just staring at her while she writhed in the grip of a nightmare.

He hurried forward and leaned over her.  Again, the scent of her nearly overwhelmed his senses, but he forced the sensation down.

"MJ!" He called, shaking her shoulders gently.  "Mary Jane!"

She quietened for a moment, and he thought she was waking up.  But suddenly she screamed, and the sound alone nearly drove him out of his mind.  He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair and calling her name over and over, begging her to wake, assuring her that he was there.

For a moment, she continued to thrash, fighting his embrace, then quietened again, her arms clinging to him.  Her mumbling quietened, and became one word, repeated tearfully over and over.  "Peter... Peter..."

Peter let his head fall back, battling with the storm of feelings she invoked in him.  Love, protectiveness, joy, pain, adoration, guilt, incredulity, passion...

Her face rested against his still-bare torso, and he could feel her breath on his skin.

So much passion...

"I love you, Peter..."

The whispered, pain-cracked confession was more than he could bear.

"MJ, I..."

And then he was kissing her, without quite knowing how he had begun.  But his lips were on hers and she was responding as she always did, with sweetness and eagerness and so much tenderness he thought his heart would break.

When did she take off the sweater?  Had he taken it off?  He didn't know.  But she was all revealed to him now, every inch of skin was spread before him as he had so often imagined but never dreamed would happen for him.  His hands explored her, worshipping every inch of her, while his own body thrilled to the feel of her small hands moving fiercely over his bared skin.

Over and over again, their lips met and parted once more.  It was as though they'd never have enough.  Heat, heavy breaths and tiny cries of pleasure and affirmation filled the room.  And when he entered her at last, they were both awed by the sense that nothing had ever been right until this moment.  That they had found all that they had ever been looking for, and could ever ask for, right here and now, within each other.

Staring straight into Peter's eyes, MJ raised a shaking hand and brushed a sweat-dampened tendril of hair back from his forehead.  "I love you," she whispered again.  Pride seemed a ridiculous notion at such a moment.

Peter closed his eyes.  "MJ..."

Suddenly she was terrified.  He couldn't be about to apologise again, surely not, not now...

"Don't!" she cried, placing her fingers against his lips, "Don't say it, I can't bear it if you..."  She couldn't finish.  Closing her own eyes, she moved her hips under him, and felt his breath hitch.

"Just...  Keep going.  Don't stop, Peter.  Don't - "  

And then speaking was no longer possible.  Her pupils dilated sharply and her fingers dug into the skin of his strong shoulders.  His state was little better.  His final shout matched her last cry of ecstasy, before he collapsed over her, their perspiration-damp skin sliding slickly together.

For a long time, and MJ had no idea how long it was, they lay in silence, with only the sound of one another's slowly stabilising breathing to insulate them against the quiet.

MJ waited for him to say something, to acknowledge something… to let her know where she stood at least.  Were they still just 'friends'?  What was he thinking?  And if the answer wasn't what she wanted to hear, did she really want to know?  Could she take the pain of another rejection without shattering completely?

But he made no sound.  She tried not to feel hurt by this.  She lay in his arms, and wished with all that was in her that the morning would not come.  This was all she really wanted.  To be with him.  Daylight had the power to take it all away.  Things were never the same in the morning.  But she loved him, and for now, she told herself, this moment was enough.

MJ was almost asleep when he finally began to speak.

"Since before I even knew what love was, I have loved you."

She was awake instantly, but did not move, afraid of breaking the spell that had fallen.  It was so long before he spoke again that she began to think she had dreamed his words.

"Right through high school...  You must have guessed.  Surely you must have.  You are the most beautiful girl I have ever known, in spirit, in mind, in ... body.  MJ, I love you with all I have in me, and I always have."  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  "But if anything ever happened to you..."

She felt a shiver pass over his skin.  Her own skin felt tight with a joy so intense she wasn't sure she would survive it.

"Peter, it's all right...  Nothing's going to happen to me."  She said softly, half-smiling in the darkness.  "And even if it did...  I seem to have attracted my own personal body-guard.  Why would you worry for me?"

To her surprise, he didn't smile in return.  "This ... personal body guard ... Spiderman ..."

She was sitting up now and staring down at him, her naked form radiant in the hazy dawn light, her face framed by a halo of glowing red hair.

Love and desire burned through him, and for a moment he could say no more.  But MJ still looked concerned.

"I'm not in love with Spiderman, if that's what you think," she said, a little impatiently.  How could he suspect that, after what they had just shared?

At that he did smile, but it wasn't a very happy expression.

"No," he agreed, "How can you love a superhero?  They aren't real people."

At that MJ wanted to interrupt, and tell him that he was wrong.  Spiderman, for all that he was a hero, was most definitely still a man.  But some instinct stayed her tongue, and a moment later Peter resumed.

"I mean, can you imagine if Spiderman had a girlfriend?  What a life she would have.  She'd be a woman who deserved the best of everything, absolutely everything...  And what she'd get would be a life of playing second fiddle to a duty that he never asked for but was his nonetheless, because ... there's no one else.  

"Plus there would be enemies.  Even now there are people out there who would stop at nothing to destroy Spiderman by any means they can.  Any one he is close to is at risk.  Because those enemies won't take long to figure out that there's only one thing that could destroy him, and that is the death of someone that he loves.  The one person he's always loved.  So superheroes don't have lovers.  They don't have wives, or children, or blood brothers.  All they can afford to have are..."

He took a deep breath, and met MJ's eyes directly.  "...Friends."

MJ stared back into his sombre face, a strange numbness stealing over her senses.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

Pieces swirled in her head, refusing to match up.  So many things she had never understood…  So many tiny mysteries…  So many impossible maybes…  Peter?  Spiderman?  _"Don't go into any dark alleys…"  "I don't want to fight you, Flash…"  "There's so much to tell..."  "Let die the woman you love…" "I was in the neighbourhood…"  "Friends is all I have to give…"   _She struggled to think logically about it all, but the images came at her too think and fast.  Her mind refused to take it all in.

Then a searing memory surfaced, and she clung to it.  It would be her key.  It would be her answer.

Without breaking eye contact, MJ twisted on the bed until she was sitting cross-legged with Peter's head in her lap.  Lowering her mouth to his, she kissed him very gently, her nose meeting his chin.

There was no rain, no cold, no mask.  But she knew whom she was kissing.  She would never forget these sensations.  Breathing heavily, she broke the contact.

And realised before she even raised her head that all of the pieces had dropped neatly into place.


	3. Part Three

_A/N: Updated - yay!  And guess what? I think I may even have broken away from a cliché or two in the conclusion I've got planned.  Hah, that's got you wondering, hasn't it? ; )  Oh, and upon Priya-chan's advice and my own investigations, I've decided to drop the rating of this story to an R.  And thanks for the reviews, people, they rock my world._

PART THREE

Spiderman dropped silently onto MJ's balcony, falling gracefully into a crouch.  

Behind her closed glass windows and door, shielded by pale curtains, he could hear her moving about.  The clink of her hairbrush on the vanity, the rush of running water as she turned on a tap.  The sharp squeak as she twisted it off again.  

It was comforting, somehow, to do this.  To hear the sounds of her going about an ordinary routine.  She was here, she was safe, and she was getting along OK without him.

It was important that he make certain of this.  Because when he told her he was leaving her forever, he had to know that she would carry on as before.  She would be hurt, he knew.  Hurt again.  But at least it would be the last of the pain he caused her.  And she would heal in time.  Because time was one thing he planned to give her.  Her whole life, in fact.  That it would be of a natural length was not something he could guarantee if he allowed what they felt for each other to go any further than it had.

Tonight was the night, then.

Uneasily, he fingered the seam of his head piece, debating whether or not to remove it.  Perhaps it would be easier if she couldn't see his face.  Perhaps his resolve would be strengthened if he had the role of Spiderman to hide behind.  

Or perhaps nothing in the world would make this any easier, and he had better just get on with it.

He hadn't actually talked to her since leaving her in tears That Night, and That Night was two nights ago now.

He felt bad about that.  Worse than bad.  He felt sick with guilt and regret.  His memories assailed him once again, and once again, he relived those last precious, painful moments in the company of MJ Watson.

After her careful, questioning, wonderful kiss, he had known for certain that his secret was out.  Sitting up, he had faced her, so that they both sat cross-legged amongst Harry's tangled bed-sheets, staring uncertainly at one another.  MJ's shock had silenced her for mere moments before her questions began to fire.  There had been a lot of them.  And he had answered them.  Starting right from the beginning, he had told her everything.

He told her about the spider bite, that day at the museum.  He told her all about his sickness, his fear, his childish excitement.  About the true circumstances of his uncle's death.  About the birth of Spiderman, and everything that had happened since.

With her hands grasped tightly in his, the words had flowed from his lips in torrents, driven by the accumulated pressure of keeping such an enormous secret concealed within for so long.

Finally, someone knew.  Finally, his feelings were finding somewhere to siphon to.  The tremendous ache in his chest was receding at last.

But the feeling of euphoria was short lived.

Inevitably, MJ had wanted to know about _them._  Why couldn't they be together?  She had not been willing to accept that they had to be apart for her own safety.  He had expected that.  She was brave, after all.  But he still couldn't take the risk.  Couldn't bear to put her in danger because of him.  Though she had nearly killed him with her tears, and come close to shattering his resolve with her devastating arguments on the issue…

"Look, imagine that I have been captured, Peter.  And these villains are merciless.  They have the ability to reach right into my chest and squeeze, until the pain is more than I can bear.  They feed me poison that settles in my stomach and burns.  They steal my sleep and draw my tears and make my life a misery.  What would you do?"

"Then I would come for you.  I would save you."

_"Are you sure?"_

_"MJ…"_

_"I want you to be sure.  Because there's only one way I can be saved.  It might mean you put yourself at risk, put everything you have on the line…"_

_"MJ, I don't understand.  I promised I would always come for you.  And I will."_

_"Then do it.  Come for me, Peter.  Save me from this pain, this burning, the sleepless nights, these tears.   Take the risk of losing me.  Just don't tell me you can't love me.  I can bear anything, Peter, but I can't bear not being with you.  It's a joke to say you are keeping me safe by staying away.  What good does it do to keep me in an ivory tower, safe from harm, when the worst harm is being done from inside me?"_

And that was when he had left her.  God help him, he had left her crying on the bed, grabbed jeans, and disappeared out the window, his chest heaving and his brain clouded with a thousand conflicting emotions that felt ready to tear his body apart.

A block away, he stopped, and collapsed against a cold concrete retainer on an unfamiliar rooftop.

He tried to think.

For five minutes, he sat in silence, doing nothing but breathe.  But nothing seemed to help.  He still couldn't shake the images in his head, the confusion in his heart, the pain MJ's words had evoked in his body.

And suddenly, somewhere on the street below, a woman screamed.  Peter stiffened, his eyes flying open.  He scrambled over to the balustrade and looked down at the busy street.  His senses guided his focus down to the point where the trouble had erupted.  The woman who had cried out stood on the street corner, her shoulders heaving and her eyes streaming with tears, mostly from shock.  A few hundred yards ahead, her assailant was fleeing with a black handbag clenched under his arm.

Peter stood up, his instinct telling him to swing down, to apprehend the criminal, to save the day.  He stopped himself just in time, remembering his unshielded face and half-naked form.  And in truth, he was weary.  Weary of being the hero.  Weary of putting himself second.  Weary of pushing his own feelings down to be everything to everyone else.

As he paused, thinking these unusually rebellious thoughts, the mugger disappeared into an alleyway.  The woman had found a pay phone and was dialling for the police.  He had missed his chance to intervene even if had wanted to.  He turned and sank back to the ground.

Almost instantly, his uncle's words echoed accusingly in his brain.

"With great power comes great responsibility…"

And now, for the second time, he had failed to fulfil that responsibility.

The truth was, he realised, that MJ was not Spiderman's only weakness.  Just being Peter Parker was a weakness in itself.  To an ever-increasing degree since the day of Norman Osbourne's funeral, the balance between Spiderman and Peter Parker had been sinking further and further in favour of Spiderman.

The magnitude of Spiderman's powers was exceeded only by the tremendous weight of his responsibilities.  MJ, the love of Peter's life, had been rejected in order to fulfil those responsibilities.  And Spiderman was an immensely demanding persona in himself.  He was unable to rest.  Unable to forget that all around him were people in pain.  In trouble.  People needing his help.  They were all his responsibility to protect.  Because he COULD.  And since he could, he couldn't NOT and still look himself levelly in the eye in the mirror every morning.

What role did Peter Parker have to play in all that?  What was the point in fighting to retain an identity for himself, beyond that of Spiderman?  Peter Parker was a nobody.  Only Spiderman was Somebody.  How could the two ever compete?

That night had been the first time in many weeks that he had remembered what it was like to be Peter.  Fighting crime day and night, until his body was exhausted and his dreams were empty.  That was all he had lived for.  Then MJ had shown up at his door and all those feelings had come rushing back…

And weakened him, he realised suddenly.  That woman on the street below, the one sobbing into the mouthpiece of a pay phone that her money and cards and keys were gone, needn't be enduring the anger and shock that she was currently experiencing.  Spiderman could have saved her, and brought her justice, but he had been too busy with being Peter Parker.  Dealing with Peter Parker's problems.  Thinking of MJ.

MJ.

Extraordinary, beautiful, talented Mary Jane Watson.

The only thing that made being Peter Parker worthwhile.  The only thing worth holding onto.  The one remaining barrier that kept Spiderman from taking over completely.

Because MJ loved Peter.  Not Spiderman.  Peter.

So what it came down to was this.  He could fight to reman Peter Parker, ordinary boy, with ordinary weaknesses, irrepressibly in love with his childhood sweetheart.  If he chose that path, chose to love, then Spiderman would be vulnerable, and MJ would be in danger.  He didn't see how could he live the two lives at once without ruining everything.  Failing in his responsibilities.  Hurting everybody.

Better, surely, to let Peter Parker go…  With him, MJ, Aunt May, Harry, the Daily Bugle job, boyhood ambitions….  And be Spiderman forever.

So this was his new resolution.  Peter Parker was to be no more.  It could be done simply enough.  All he had to do was let MJ go, and his reasons for clinging to that identity would fall away.  Spiderman would easily expand to fill the gaps, and seal over the weak spots in his armour.  His power and his responsibility would no longer be at war with his more visceral emotions.  Peter's friends would be safe, and Spiderman would be, in a word, invincible.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to MJ's window.  Beneath his mask, he squeezed his eyes closed.

And knocked three times.


	4. Part Four

**_Author's Note: _**_Hey there, I'm sorry about the huge break, but you know how it is.  You'll all be relieved to know that this is the final instalment.  I sincerely hope you enjoy it.  See you at the end!****_

PART FOUR

When MJ heard the knock on her window, her body went completely still.  For several long seconds, the only sound or movement she was aware of was the erratic pounding of her heart in the silence.

She knew who it was.  She didn't know how she knew.  Somehow she just did.

Straightening up, she took a deep breath and pulled her dressing gown more firmly about her.  Crossing to the glass door that opened onto the small balcony, she pushed the curtains aside and flicked the lock aside.

She had expected to see Peter immediately, waiting for her in the light.  She was surprised when the small balcony seemed at first glance to be deserted, but nevertheless, she stepped out into the cool night air.  A moment later, a familiar red and blue clad figure moved out of the shadows, and her surprise grew.  She had expected Peter, not Spiderman.  A faint feeling of uneasiness assailed her, but she pushed it aside.

"Hello, Peter," she said quietly, gazing directly into the unreadable mask.

"MJ."  The voice behind the mask was rough, as though from lack of use, but it was still Peter's voice and it made her heart jump painfully.

"MJ I've… come to say goodbye."

MJ just stared.  The night wasn't so cold after all, she though numbly.  It was actually quite hot.  Her skin was practically burning.  What a strange sensation.

There was silence for a long minute.  He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but MJ had no words at all.  Goodbye.  What did he expect her to say?  How did he even expect her to survive this announcement without breaking down, let alone give a coherent response…

Finally, not knowing what else to do, she nodded once.

He seemed to hesitate, then added desperately, "I'm sorry."

MJ nodded again.

"So am I," she said coolly, and could scarcely believe how steady her voice sounded.

Another brief pause ensued, then she said, "Are you even going to take off your mask?"

His gloved hand went to his covered face.

"I – no.  I – that is, I wasn't going to.  I shouldn't."  
  


"Why not?"  

Again, MJ marvelled at her own composure.  For two full days, her heart had been trembling on the brink of this terrible abyss, waiting to know its fate.  To know if it was going to be shattered violently in all directions or pulled back to safety and spared.  And now she had her answer, but when she examined her reaction there was only a strange hollowness.  Clearly she had fallen into the abyss and was still completing the sickening plummet.  When she turned and closed the door behind her – then would come the impact.  Not before then.

"Because…" came his low, unhappy reply, "It's not who I am anymore."

Something in his tone sent a strange chill creeping over MJ's skin.  Her forehead creased.

"Peter, what does that mean?  Are - are you OK…?"  How ridiculous it seemed to be asking him that question, and not the other way around.  But there was something wrong here, something so wrong…

"I'm not Peter.  Not anymore," the costumed figure seemed to sigh and began to pace jerkily on the tiny balcony.  "Don't you see, I can't be.  I can't be Peter and Spiderman, not both at once.  It tears me in two.  I can't … I can't go on loving you.  To remain Peter means to love you, and to love you means we are all put in danger.  You, Peter, Spiderman…  all of us are caught up knots, left in danger, made painfully vulnerable.  The only way I can save us all, and save the world, is to let you go MJ.  If I can let you go, then Peter will follow.  You are all he lives for.  I am Spiderman now.  That's … all I can be."

For a moment, MJ could only stare.  She was barely breathing and barely aware of it.  All of a sudden the blue and red outline before her, the image she had once associated with safety and righteousness, seemed to morph and became monstrous in her eyes.

She was afraid, actually afraid, of what lurked behind that mask.  Whatever it was it wasn't Peter.  It was a creature, a stranger she didn't recognise, and it was speaking of ... letting Peter die.

"Take off the mask," she said again, her voice nothing more than a bodiless whisper, only this time the words were not a request.

"MJ…?"  Spiderman took a step towards her, reaching out in concern.

MJ cringed back from his touch.  "Don't come near me, take off the mask!" She repeated, her voice shaking now in her urgency.  "Please, Peter take it off!!"

In a single movement, Spiderman stripped the mask away, and Peter's expressive blue eyes, wide with uncertainty and worry, peered down at her.

Still shaking slightly, MJ struggled to calm herself, and failed.  

She threw herself gracelessly into his arms and clung to him.

"Peter…  Tell me you didn't mean what you just said…  Please…  You can't truly mean to…"

She felt his hands come to rest in her hair.  She felt that they were trembling slightly and felt a sharp rush of hope.

"MJ, I have no choice…"  Very gently, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back.

"Of course you have a choice!"  She snapped in response, her eyes swimming with tears that she blinked furiously away.  "We all have choices.  You don't seem to understand.  I love Peter Parker.  I love him!  He is a good man.  The best of men.  And not thirty seconds ago some… _thing_… was standing in front of me and speaking with terrifying earnestness of killing him.  'Letting him go.'  Can you imagine how that feels?  I was frightened.  Terrified.  But not just for me, not even just for Peter…"

She took a deep, shuddering breath.  She had to be calm.  She had to be logical.  Everything depended on this, everything…  She had to make him see before it was too late.

"I was afraid," she said slowly and softly, looking steadily into his eyes, "Because what I could see was a man with awesome powers at his disposal speaking of his intention to give up his humanity.  Do you think you can do that, and still be the superhero you envisage?  Heroes are _defined_ by their humanity, their empathy.  If you let Peter Parker die - if you deny him the ones he loves and let all his weaknesses fade into insignificance - you don't just lose his vulnerabilities.  You lose his kindness, his gentleness, his memories, his motives for trying to do good.  Peter has an aunt who loves him, and he wants to make her proud.  He once said that looking at me made him want to be a better man.  What reason will you have to be a better man when Peter is gone, and there is nothing inside you at all?

"If you let me go, you will lose Peter, and Spiderman will become an all-powerful, unstoppable, invulnerable machine.  Without feelings.  Without humanity.  Without anything to live for except some vaguely defined notions about what is right and wrong in this complicated and largely screwed up world.  How long will it be before he stops caring?  How long before he forgets what it's like to love, forgets why he wants to help people at all?"

Peter stared.  MJ's voice began to shake.  She couldn't hold on to her control much longer.  The floor of the abyss was rushing up fast, and there was so much at stake.  Why didn't he say something?  Was he going to leave her again?  He couldn't, he just couldn't…

"Please don't push me away now, Peter…  Please… If I'm Peter Parker's reason for holding on, then for God's sake, hold me.  Not just for my sake.  Not just for your sake.  Do it because, God help me Peter, if the man beneath the mask isn't you, then I'm afraid of Spiderman, and I'm terrified for the people of this world.  I'm afraid of what he might grow into if you aren't in control.

She paused, and drew an unsteady breath.  Her tone dropped, becoming little more than a whisper in her throat.

"You can be both.  You can.  Let me be your reason for living.  Let me be the one who keeps Peter Parker alive within you.  You can keep me safe from the dangers outside, and I'll keep you safe from the dangers within.  We can help one another.  It can work, Peter, if you'll only let it, if you'll only trust in this… in me…"

He was staring at her like he had never seen anything like her before in his life.

He didn't move.

MJ was too afraid to breathe, too afraid to even shift her weight.  If she moved she might break this moment, and then he would be gone, she would have lost him, lost everything.... 

The silence dragged on.

She had to do _something_.  In a move that was possibly the bravest thing MJ had ever done, she gathered together every emotion that was ringing inside her at that moment.

One last chance…

She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and kissed Peter very gently on the lips.  Every molecule of pain, adoration, fear, love, uncertainty and hope that wracked her mind and body, she channelled into that kiss.

…And then pulled slowly away, but not too far.  Unable to open her eyes, she whispered almost inaudibly, "Say you will…"  

"I - "

But she kissed him again, stopping his next words.  

This time the contact lasted longer as desire came flooding into the equation.  And then, once again, she pulled away.

This time she managed to open her eyes and meet his gaze as she whispered, "Say it…"

Peter did not look away.  He drew a long, silent breath.  "I trust you, MJ…"  He said clearly.  

MJ stared, scarcely daring to believe him, to believe in them.  "Do you mean it?"  She asked quietly.

He reached out and took her face in his hands, looking directly into her eyes.  "I mean it," he said, matching her serious tone.  "I do.  I love you.  And I think you just saved my life."

MJ closed her eyes, and threw herself into his embrace.  His arms closed tightly around her.

"Well," she murmured, her voice only slightly muffled against his red and blue-clad chest, "I figured it had to be my turn."

And she didn't have to look at his face to know that he was finally smiling.

THE END.

**_A/N: _**_So did you like it…?  Were you convinced by it?  Please review and let me know.  Criticisms are fine.  I've had my fun in the writing of it, so that can't be taken away.  : )  Right, I'm off to catch up on my reading.  Ciao!_


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